


begin again

by cumulativeChaos



Series: Sashavist AU [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archivist Sasha James, Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Canon, once again this is both canon compliant and sashavist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28775604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumulativeChaos/pseuds/cumulativeChaos
Summary: Hooking up with Tim had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Relationships: Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Series: Sashavist AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988587
Kudos: 9





	begin again

**Author's Note:**

> i dont rlly think u need to read anything else from this series to understand whats going on. they hooked up. now theyre awkward. the end

Sasha wakes up first.

There's a beam of sunlight peeking through the curtains, and it lands directly onto her face. Sasha blinks awake with a groan, then squints in confusion. Her bedroom doesn't have a window. Where the hell is she?

A groan, this one deeper than Sasha's, comes from somewhere to her right, and suddenly everything comes flooding back.

_Tim, pulling her turtleneck down to suck a hickey into her neck._

_Tim, groaning as she gets a handful of his ass._

_Tim, head buried between her thighs._

_Tim, sliding inside her._

_Tim._

_Tim._

"Tim," Sahsa breathes, looking over to where the man lays, dead to the world. His face is turned toward her, mouth open and drooling onto his pillow.

"Oh, no." Sasha leans away. "Oh, no, girl, what did you _do?"_

She knows the answer to that question, of course. _A lot_ is what she did. And it was really, really good. But now she's thinking of what's going to happen when he wakes up—what is she going to _say?_ How is she supposed to just _act natural_ after Tim gave her one of the best nights of her life?

She's not going to, she decides. Sasha's just going to leave.

It takes her a while to find her clothes, strewn about Tim's room as they are. When she's dressed, she takes a quick glance of herself in the mirror, then instantly regrets it—she looks like _shit_. Her hair is all over the place, her clothes rumpled, mascara smudged around her eyes. Anyone who sees her making her way home is going to know exactly what kind of night she had.

Oh, well. She holds her head high as she sneaks out the door. Nothing to do for it but run home and hide from the world.

* * *

Tim doesn't text her. To be fair, she doesn't text him either, but the lack of communication between them hangs over Sasha all weekend, to the point that when Monday rolls around, she's seriously considering calling in sick just so she can put off their inevitable confrontation. She's been rehearsing what to say, but even just _imagining_ talking to Tim has got Sasha flushing and stammering in the mirror.

But she's a professional. She's not going to let a _man_ get in the way of her work.

Rosie greets her cheerily as Sasha enters the Institute. Sasha greets her back, smiling, and makes her way to her desk. The building is full of chattering voices, coworkers settling in and getting ready for the day. Sasha hangs her coat on her chair, takes a seat, and gets to work. Maybe if she buries herself in research, she won't have time to interact with Tim.

"Sasha!"

Well. So much for that idea.

Sasha looks up with a forced grin as Tim strolls over to her. Somehow, over the weekend, she forgot how handsome he was, and seeing his lopsided smile makes her feel warm all the way to her toes.

She can't do this. There's no way she can do this.

"Tim," she croaks as he approaches her desk. "How do you do?"

Really? _How do you do?_

"Splendid!" Tim says. He comes to a stop in front of her desk, still grinning. "I had the _loveliest_ weekend. You?"

"I'm great," she says weakly.

"Right you are," Tim says.

Oh, god, is he saying _she's_ great? As in, _great in bed?_ Sasha doesn't know how to respond to that.

Neither does Tim, based on the way he winces and glances away. "Anyway," he says. "I was, er, wondering-"

"I do have work," Sasha blurts. "Work to do. So. Uh."

Tim's grin falters for a moment. "Right! Of course you do. So do I!" He laughs, but the sound is not nearly as carefree as Sasha's used to hearing it. "I'll let you get back to it."

"Thank you, Tim," Sasha says. Her voice sounds stiff, professional. This is not how she talks to Tim. Their conversations are full of inside jokes and whispered gossip, not whatever _this_ is.

He nods at her, then sits down at his desk. Which is, of course, right next to hers. This had been a blessing, at first, as they had gotten to know each other, but now Sasha is cursing her very existence. How is she supposed to get work done if she has to sit right next to Tim?

* * *

The answer is: she doesn't. She doesn't for a whole week.

She gets stuck trying to hack her way into police records, something she should be able to do in her sleep. She spends hours trying to track down someone's phone number, only to learn the person she's looking for passed away two months ago. She wastes an exorbitant amount of time looking for a book in the library when it turns out the book had been checked out by none other than Tim Stoker.

Her few interactions with Tim maintain the same stiff, professional tone throughout the week. He asks her to find a phone number for him, she agrees. She offers to help him research a haunted chair in Artefact Storage, he declines. One of them goes to make tea and brings two mugs back to their desks. It's polite. Civil.

Unbearable.

"Alright, everyone!" Tim announces suddenly, startling Sasha out of her thoughts. He's standing at the front of the room, speaking to their coworkers like a professor addressing their students. "It's Friday, you know what that means!"

Oh, god. Sasha was so wrapped up in embarrassment and shame, she forgot about _Friday night drinks._ It's routine, and Sasha's not quite sure how she's going to weasel her way out of it.

A few of their coworkers decline, citing children and date nights as excuses not to go. Sasha almost wants to follow suit; she _could_ pretend to have a date.

Something about lying about a date seems unnecessarily cruel, though.

"Jon? How about it?" Tim says, leaning over Jonathan Sims's desk. "Care for a drink?"

"I was thinking about staying late," Jon replies. "This case I'm working on–"

"Can wait!" Tim's smile stretches across his face. "C'mon, pal, just this once? For me? You _never_ come out with us."

Jon is quiet. His desk is in front of Sasha's, so she can't see his face, but she can tell he's looking at Tim. She wonders what Jon's thinking.

"Fine," Jon says finally. "But it's still a quarter 'til. I'm not leaving until five."

“Works for me!” Tim says. “Anyone else? Sasha?”

Sasha cringes. She doesn’t look up from her computer. “I’m, er. Busy.”

“Come on, Sash.” The nickname burns at her. _“Jon_ is coming. He _never_ joins us for Friday night drinks. Don’t you want to see what Jon’s like when he lets his hair down?”

She won’t lie, that’s a pretty tempting offer. But she’s worried about what’s going to happen when Friday night drinks comes to a close. She and Tim take the same train home; she’s dreading the inevitable thirty minutes of uninterrupted time alone.

Maybe she can just leave early. Or stay late, depending on when Tim leaves. Besides, she _always_ goes to Friday night drinks. It might look suspicious if she skipped out.

“Alright,” she says. “But I’m with Jon. We’re not leaving until five.”

The grin Tim shoots her is blinding. Sasha finds herself growing warm, and she glances away quickly.

Stupid Tim. Stupid Sasha. This is going to be a disaster.

* * *

Jonathan Sims, as it turns out, is very fond of infodumping.

Sasha likes Jon. He’s a hard worker, which she respects, although sometimes he leans towards the workaholic. He’s one of the first people to show up in the morning, and he often stays late. He’s a ruthless researcher, ready to bend the rules for the sake of an assignment, something she can relate to.

Outside of work, he can be a bit stiff, but Sasha knows him well enough to know he’s simply an awkward person. She’s seen him desperately searching into enough assignments to know he’s a good person at heart, someone dedicated to helping people and doing the right thing. He’s simply not that great at casual conversation.

An inebriated Jonathan Sims is also not great at casual conversation, but for a much different reason.

"-but it wasn't until the Renaissance that architecture went from being a tradesman's profession to being considered a study worthy of aristocracy," Jon says. "This changed the way architecture was approached, as many of the architects actually knew very little about technical construction, but quite a lot about design. So, architects would design buildings first and figure out the logistics second, which led to huge leaps in engineering-"

Sasha glances around the table. Almost everyone is meeting each other’s eyes with knowing glances, rolling their eyes and smirking. Sasha watches as Hannah sighs and takes a long swig from her mug. Adam has his head buried in his hands, like he’s got a splitting headache. Only Tim seems to be paying any attention, staring at Jon with wide eyes, rapt, nodding along as Jon rants on and on.

"-and because they didn't use concrete, domes were to be constructed with brick and stone. Filippo Brunelleschi figured out how to create domes without formwork, using the weight of the bricks laying against each other to keep the dome in place."

“I need to use the loo,” Sasha announces. “Be right back.”

In the bathroom, she splashes her face with cold water. Her face in the mirror looks the same as ever, wide eyes, wide nose, wide lips. It’s hard to imagine that face deciding to sleep with Tim. The decision had made sense at the time, but now that mindset seems totally alien. She’s not the kind of person who _does_ that.

The hickeys under her turtleneck have all but disappeared, but Sasha feels like the marks are visible even through the fabric.

When she exits the loo, she can see from across the pub that Jon is no longer hogging the conversation. Everyone is chatting in smaller groups. Tim and Jon, especially, seemed to be wrapped up in their own conversation.

Neither of them notice when she approaches. Before she reaches the table, over the din of the pub, Sasha hears Jon’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” he says. “I don’t exactly… partake.”

“Like, ever?” Tim asks.

Jon nods. There’s a strange look on his face, a sort of nauseous nervousness, but Tim claps him on the back with a grin.

“Power to you, Jon,” he says. “I hope I didn’t make things awkward.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of awkwardness,” Jon says with a little too much earnestness. 

Sasha, against her will, snorts out loud as she sits down across from Tim and Jon.

Tim looks up, startled. His expression morphs into something painfully uncomfortable, and Sasha winces at herself. _Stupid girl._

“Jon,” Sasha says. “Tell me more about the history of construction.”

Jon looks surprised. “I… really? I was afraid I was being annoying.”

Sasha shrugs. “Not to me, you weren’t.”

“Yeah, come on, Jon,” Tim says. He nudges Jon with his elbow, grinning good-naturedly. “I was enjoying your little rant.”

“Alright,” Jon says. “So, in the seventeenth century, the main breakthrough of the period was the manufacturing of glass..."

* * *

Somehow, despite what she told herself, Sasha ends up riding the tube with Tim.

It’s silent between them. They stand far enough apart that to an outside viewer, there’s no way to tell that the two of them know each other. Sasha stares at the floor, ignoring the way she can feel Tim’s eyes boring into her.

“Sash,” he says when they’re two stations away from his stop.

Sasha bites her lip, considers ignoring him. The tube is busy enough that she could pretend not to have heard him. But Tim deserves better than that, and she raises her eyes to meet his gaze.

“Yes?”

Tim’s a bit flushed from all the drinking, swaying slightly even though the tube isn’t moving at the moment. Sasha wants to reach out to steady him, but she keeps her hands to herself.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks.

Sasha decides to play dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come off it,” Tim says. “You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

“I–”

“Last Saturday,” he says. “You were gone before I woke up. Why?”

She doesn’t really know what to say. All she can remember is the panicky feeling climbing up her throat as she looked over Tim’s sleeping form, the shame burning in her gut when she looked in the mirror.

The tube doors slide to a shut, and the train starts moving again. Tim and Sasha jostle slightly, almost bumping into each other. They both take a step back. Sasha clears her throat, looks away.

“Do you regret it?” Tim asks, voice fragile.

 _Yes,_ a part of her thinks, although that’s a much simpler answer than the truth. The _truth_ is, the only thing she regrets is how awkward things have become between them. In and of itself, the sex is not something she regrets.

“Sort of,” is what she says.

“Oh.” Tim sounds small, defeated. When she looks at him, he’s staring at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she says desperately.

Tim just shrugs.

Sasha doesn’t have a response for that.

* * *

On Monday morning, Sasha greets Tim with a polite smile.

He doesn’t smile back.

* * *

Other people are starting to notice. Sasha’s sure of it. After all, how could anyone miss the absence of Tim and Sasha’s boisterous laughter booming through the research department? They used to get reprimanded by David, the head researcher, for talking too much and too loudly, like they were in primary school. Now, the back row of desks is completely silent.

Nobody says anything, but she sees their stares, all concerned and questioning. She wonders what they think happened. She wonders if they _know._

The thought makes her sick.

Their strained and polite interactions have decreased to the absolute bare minimum. They don’t go to each other with questions, they don’t offer their help to the other, they don’t bring each other tea. They barely nod hello. All throughout the week, Sasha’s physically aware of Tim’s presence beside her, like he’s emanating a tangible aura. She feels like he’s staring at her, but every time she glances over, he’s engrossed in his own research.

She’s in line at the canteen when someone finally breaks the unspoken rule of Not Asking Sasha About Whatever’s Going On.

“Sasha,” Hannah says, sliding up in line behind her.

“Hannah,” Sasha says in greeting.

Hannah grins, but the smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “What’cha getting?”

Sasha shrugs. “Probably a salad.”

“Cool, cool.”

Sasha glances at Hannah. She’s looking at Sasha expectantly, so Sasha says, “And you?”

“Oh! Oh, I dunno.” Hannah shrugs. “Probably also a salad.”

Sasha nods. This conversation is riveting. “So, what do you-”

“Did something happen with Tim?” Hannah blurts.

Christ, there it is. Sasha laughs bitterly. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? We haven’t been particularly _chummy_ as of late.”

“Okay, but, like,” Hannah fidgets, lowers her voice. “Did something _happen.”_

Sasha blinks. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You _know,”_ Hannah says. “Like, you know his reputation. You know what he’s… like. Did he… try anything?”

It takes a minute for Sasha to connect the dots. What Hannah’s proposing is so unlike Tim, it doesn’t immediately click in Sasha’s mind. When it does, her face scrunches up in disgust.

“Do you think he _molested_ me?” Sasha demands.

“Well, not _exactly,”_ Hannah says. “But, like, yeah. Pretty much. General harassment. That sort of thing. You know I’ve got your back, Sasha.”

Sasha blinks incredulously. “I’m sorry, I just– _no_ Hannah, that is not at _all_ what happened.”

“Oh, thank god,” Hannah says, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Tim and I might not be getting along right now, but he’s still a friend,” Sasha says. “I trust him. He would _never_ do anything like that.”

“Oh.”

Sasha whirls around at the familiar voice. Of course, there’s Tim, because the awkwardness between them must be maintained at all times, lest the universe fall to chaos. Sasha wants to groan.

“Tim,” Sasha says. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he says back. His expression is impossible to read. “Hello, Hannah.”

“Hello,” Hannah says meekly.

“I think you’re up, Sash.” He nods towards the counter, where the person in front of Sasha is getting rung up.

“Right,” Sasha says. “Thanks.”

* * *

Sasha makes it back from lunch before anyone else does. The only person who’s in the research room is Jon. Sasha’s guessing he skipped lunch altogether.

She sits down at her desk and gets back to work. She’s been struggling to find an email correspondence between a man who claims to have seen a ghost and his son. Apparently, there’s a video attachment on that file, the only footage of this alleged ghost, and Sasha’s been hacking into this man’s email to try and get to it.

She’s so engrossed in her work that she doesn’t notice Tim enter the room until he’s already sitting beside her. “Sasha,” he says.

Sasha looks up. Tim is staring at her. “Yes?”

“Did…” He trails off, glances away. “Did you mean what you said to Hannah?”

Ah. So he’d overheard the whole thing, huh? “Yes,” she answers truthfully. “I did.”

Tim smiles, just barely, and then the smile turns back to a frown. “I didn’t know you… trusted me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Sasha says. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You said you regretted it,” Tim says, voice hushed.

“I said I _sort of_ regretted it,” Sasha corrects. “I only regret it, like, twenty-five percent.”

“Still!” Tim gestures helplessly. “You can barely stand to look at me, Sasha. I can’t reconcile that with someone who _trusts_ me.”

Sasha chews on her lip. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you treating me like I have?” Tim demands.

“Because,” Sasha says, “I don’t know how to go back to normal, not after we–” _panted breaths, choked moans, a feeling of stretching fullness_ “-not after what happened. But that’s _my_ fault, not yours.”

Tim smiles, that same soft, barely-there smile, but this time it lingers. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I can deal with awkward.”

“You can?” Sasha asks weakly.

Tim nods. “I can. You can, too. We can get through this, Sash.”

He seems so certain, she can’t help but believe him. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
